Whore for More Ch. 01

But high school boys were no treat. More of a turn-off. College wasn't to be. I could type 90 words a minute and found an office temp job. Mom didn't want me hitting the sheets until I hit the streets, to find a traditional job, that is. She said I should spread my wings before I spread my legs for a living.

Seemed like good advice, but I soon found it was not where my heart was. I dated some. That is, I fucked some. It was okay, but it just wasn't the same without money on the table.

Then I got a temp job as cubicle sub in this uptown office. That's where I saw the boys. They sat behind me at a Starbucks one day when I was on break too. I overheard them talking.

Lots of wet dreams about wet pinup girls, mostly. "Check her out", "Look at the rack on that one", "Yeah, but I like itty bitty titties" and the like. Boy talk. Neither one could hang onto a girl for more than a night. Sounded like they got their dicks wet on occasion, but only after hours of hard work, liquor and cat trap chat. With luck, they might get a chance at knocking a bitch up.

They both fantasized about breeding bitches in heat, loving and leaving, that kind of ego trip. They both talked mind trip shit, like having a sub-slut-fuck-whore on loan, or buying a slave, wherever you do that. They didn't know. They talked shit. They were just boys needing to become men.

I ate that shit up. The more I thought about it, their dreams were mine too. I wanted to whore, but I wanted to choose.

So I stayed late one night at the office. After they left, I logged into their computers, researched their histories and got Skip's email account. Tons of porn. Porn pics, porn videos, porn stories and, of course, dick selfies.

Made me hot. Had to slap one out in the ladies' after each computer. Then I wrote them a letter.

Next day, Skip could not wait to discuss it with Greg, over lattes. I timed my breaks with theirs to eavesdrop. I kept my back to them, but always sat close so they could get a good look, smell my perfume, listen to my voice and my laughter as I pretend-called a pretend-friend about pretend-dates. I made sure they knew I was to be had and wanted it bad, but never looked directly at them, let alone acknowledged their existence.

Skip read my letter aloud to Greg. "'Dear Sis,' she wrote," he said.

I sensed he was pointing me out, by the way their voices dropped. Snickering. Lewd gestures. Yeah, eyes in the back of my head like all girls.

"She must think she's sending this to her sister," Skip said.

Yeah, I write to my pussy.

"See here?" he said. "She has the addy right at the top of the page but copied it wrong into the send box. What are the odds it's one letter off from mine?"

Yeah, what are the odds? I rolled my eyes.

"'What a great idea sharing our most intimate fantasies,'" he read on. "'Mine is to be the fuck toy of two ...'"

Well, you get the idea. Pretty much laid it all out for them. Three letters, explicit in detail. What I fantasized for them to do. When my temp assignment terminated. Where I lived. That I had entered a contest to win free cable for a year – a fiction. I did everything but s-p-e-l-l i-t o-u-t for them. That, I literally did with the 'Fuck Me' tank top. I may want to be a whore, but I'd have to be insane to cat for sex slavery from two total strangers.

Oh, and the birth control? Took care of that at eighteen. Had my eggs harvested. No little buns to bake.

I couldn't help breaking into laughter again at the looks on their faces. Priceless.

I had been stroking their cocks through the entire story. They were both like iron.

"There you have it," I said. "I taught the two of you how to help me live my dream. What do you think of your little 'Whore' now?"

They looked at each other.

Skip finally spoke, first as always, to Greg.

"I think it's time we give our Whore some more."

I thought so too.

What do you think?

Kisses,

Kandy Kumzalot